“Jolene” doesn’t know if the demon is real. Or if it is a recurring, sweat drenched nightmare. But she’s certain it’s the most horrifying vision she’s ever seen.

I met with Jolene in a Las Vegas deli, a place where they make a good New York-style Reuben sandwich, a guilty pleasure of mine. Jolene ordered a Chinese chicken salad, which she didn’t touch.

I usually try to keep emotion out of my work, but Jolene’s case pulled on my heartstrings. A chorus girl of some twenty years standing, Jolene had lapsed into a deep depression as the dreams (or true demonic attacks) had grown more vivid with each passing night. In the six weeks since they started, the former exercise nut had gained an incredible twenty pounds, causing her to be laid off from her job until she regained her former svelte figure.

Truth be told, I dated Jolene just before she began her dancing career. Which is perhaps why she was so open with me.

“A friend of mine at a séance encountered a demon so horrifying that she vomited on the spot,” Jolene confided. “Well, I don’t become sick to my stomach when my own demon materializes. But I almost wish I could vomit out the horror that wells up inside me.”

She then described the demon’s appearance. “The demon that plagues me at night is hideously inhuman with fierce yellow, lidless eyes. It has a pig-like snout instead of a nose and hundreds of horribly uneven teeth. It appears to be over seven feet tall, with a misshapen body and talons instead of hands or feet. And it won’t go away.”

Our conversation continued much longer than this space allows me to relate. I am a psychiatrist, not a spiritual advisor. Professional ethics don’t allow me to interfere in events as they unfold. But because Jolene was a former lover, I gave her the general advice that such entities can be driven away with positive spiritual thoughts and activities. If such steps are not taken, she might be dragged away to burn in Vegas-style Eternal Hell, a netherworld casino where Wayne Newton is in residency 24/7 and every denizen is chained to a penny slot machine that never pays.

For her sake, I hope Jolene is only suffering from a complete nervous breakdown, caused, in part by the loss of my companionship decades ago.

By: Abraham Tribesky, M.D.

97-Year-Old Psychiatrist to Deceased Hollywood Stars